


It Only Hurts A Second

by WillowPerpetua



Series: A Lifetime, A Second [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Multiverse, Oral Sex, Past Character Death, Self-cest, Sexual Content, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Surgery, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8654524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowPerpetua/pseuds/WillowPerpetua
Summary: A Prequel for the series A Lifetime, A Second. Steve Rogers served his country as the world's only Super Soldier in WWII. He distinguished himself as an officer in the army for many decades to come, but as he failed to age and his strength never diminished, too much was asked of him. He grew tired, those he loved died, and he retreated into a world of solitude and the escape of drugs. Now, a man knocks on his door seeking help. When he sees his own face looking back at him, hard questions must be answered. (This is a revision of a story posted in 2015, previously entitled "Nothing hurts for long, or "Go Fuck Yourself")





	

 The acrid, powdery taste of the pills slid across his tongue and down his throat as Steve leaned his head back. He swallowed the pills and water together and tried not to let his mind linger on the moments between now and the high and the crash. After seven decades of permanence, a minute here or there hardly made a difference.  
His metabolism killed a buzz faster than Director Hill showing up at a party, but pharmaceuticals were not bad. On most people, they lasted a couple of hours, on him, well, he could count on twenty minutes a pop. Nothing hurts for long, he thought to himself, shaking his head with a bitter smile.  
  
      Steve threw himself onto the couch, savoring another night away from the world. He flicked through the channels and  watching without watching. There was a time when he was glued to the screen, staring with fascination along with the rest of the country as the world changed in front of his eyes. He watched scientific discoveries blossom, one right after the other. The Space Race sped ahead and a man stood on the moon. He saw poetry, art, music, all grow in a decade and it was beautiful.  
The ugly side of humanity grew at a steady pace to match it. Steve felt his throat constrict, breathing accelerate.  
      No. He told himself. He would not think about the wars, the assassinations, and political intrigue. All of those things into which he had been conscripted, the secrets that he would carry with him to the end of the earth, since death seemed too nice and neat for him, had paved the way from Then to Now. It was in the past—his therapists said he needed to leave it there. Steve said he needed another pill. He rose to his feet, feeling his head swim through the air in a pleasant haze.  
      The doorbell rang.  
  
      “Fuck me.” Steve groaned as he padded to the door in his socks. He cracked it open  without removing the security chain, and peeked through the slot.  
  
      At first, Steve thought someone was holding a mirror. The man standing in front of him was tall, blonde, muscular, and staring at him with the same expression of shock and recognition. Steve felt a twist in his gut. It was the feeling that something was out of place. Just like walking down a staircase and missing the last step.  
  
The difference between them was that, although the man standing on the landing in front of his apartment did look similar to Steve in an uncanny way, Steve was wearing the same clothes he had been sleeping in for the past four days and this man had a look about him that screamed “tactical mission.”  
  
      “The fuck do you want?” He asked.  
  
      “Help.” The Other Steve said, pulling the side of his jacket open slightly to reveal a large, red stain over his abdomen.  
  
      Steve slammed the door, released the security chain, and grabbed a bat next to the door jam. When he reopened the door, Other Steve was turning to leave with a defeated stumble that spoke of the kind of blood loss that needed treatment.  
  
      “You should probably come in.” Steve said, opening the door a little wider to usher the Other Steve inside.  
  
      “Thanks,” he said, sidestepping Steve and the bat.  
  
      “Just being cautious.” Steve said as an inside joke with himself. He left caution behind a few decades ago. This new Steve didn’t look like he understood or cared.“Have a seat.” Steve said. The Other Steve sat in Steve’s favorite, most indented place on the couch, vacated only a moment ago. “How did you get here?” Steve asked.  
  
      “Saw my name at this address.”  
  
      “No.” Steve said, his eyes cold and calculating. “How did you get here, Cap? I’m going to say…” He trailed off for a moment, staring into his counterpart’s eyes. It gave him chills. There was light there, hope like he hadn’t seen or felt in a lifetime. It made him feel bile rise up along the back of his throat, a burning sensation in the back of his nose like getting sucker punched. It was the kind of feeling he didn’t want to process and normally, he wouldn't have. “1940s. You’re brand new. Fresh out of Erskine’s oven. Fucking shit.” He said, shaking his head, his jaw tight.  
  
       Other Steve said. “I crashed a plane that was headed to New York. They dug me out of the ice and I’ve been hold up at S.H.I.E.L.D. ever since.”  
  
      “Yeah. That sounds like something you would do, Cap.” Steve said, nodding.  
  
      “I, um” Steve said, before gritting his teeth and slipping off his jacket, then holding his hand to the wound in his torso “I’ve got a bullet in me.”  
  
      “Why didn’t you go back to S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Steve asked. “I’m sure they would jump at the chance to help you out. They have labs and doctors. You’re just the little toy soldier they always wanted.”  
  
      “Didn’t want to try to hoof it back before I took care of this.” He gestured to the wound again. “Thought this place would be an empty apartment or something. I just wanted to use the space for a minute.” he shrugged, then winced. “Ah. Damn it. Hurts like a son of a bitch.”  
  
      Steve, the Steve who had seen so much, looked at this younger self and felt that perhaps he was not hearing the full story. He would have been able to call for evacuation no matter where he was instead of breaking into an abandoned apartment to patch himself up. It made Steve curious, but more than that he felt wonder.  
Looking closer, Steve could see that his eyes shone brighter than Steve could ever recall in himself; there was something about him that glowed with an innocence long since gone from the Steve who stood above him. As he looked down at himself, he felt for the first time a longing: He wanted it back.  
  
      “They really didn’t tell you about me? About you?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
      “I don’t think they tell me a whole lot.” His younger self answered.  
  
      “You can bet your bottom fucking dollar on that one, Cap.” Steve said, shaking his head.  
  
      “Why do you keep calling me Cap?”  
  
      “Because that’s what you are. “You’re still a dancing monkey in tights to them.”  
  
      “Hey.” Cap said, his tone gaining authority, volume rising as the pitch lowered. “I don’t know what you’ve been through.” He looked around the apartment, at the overflowing piles of garbage and dirty dishes, the unswept floor, the dirty white undershirt that clung to a mussed and crumpled Steve. “Must have been a lot to make you this way,” he continued. “But you’re still me, and I’m still you, so let’s cut the crap, okay? I’m going to need some tweezers, a needle and thread, and some kind of alcohol. You got that stuff?”  
  
      “Plenty of alcohol. I can probably find the rest.” Steve said, looking over his younger self with a modicum of respect. He caught a glimpse of darkness edging in at the corners of his doppelganger’s mouth. Perhaps he was wrong, Steve thought, as he turned away, maybe that innocence was already tarnished. Perhaps that purity that he envied was never there to begin with. If he was honest with himself, there was a part of him that had always been scuffed up and dented; he had always been a little bit damaged.  
  
      “Now, please.” Cap said. “I can feel the tissue regrowing around the bullet. If it does much more of that I’ll have to cut it out, and that’s not going to be pretty.”  
  
  
The memory ignited inside of both of their minds like something shared: huddled in the dark and the damp. Steve took a bullet without thought and kept fighting. By the time the battle was over, he had healed again, with the little piece of lead sealed up inside of him. Steve remembered swearing up a storm into Bucky’s shoulder while he cut himself back open with the sharpest blade they had so that he could pull the bullet out.  
Later that night, he swore and sweat  into Bucky’s shoulder for a different reason—fighting to keep quiet as Bucky’s strong, calloused hands brought him to the edge over and over again. He finally found relief with his lips pressed into the scruff and salt of Bucky’s neck. Pain or no pain, it was a good memory. Bucky was always good at making Steve feel better.  
  
The pieces slid together in Steve’s mind so gracefully and so brutally. The plane that this Steve, Cap, crashed belonged to Schmidt. It happened days after Bucky died. No wonder, he thought. This Steve has only just lost Bucky. The darkness is in him and it will continue to grow from here.  
  
  
      “Come on.” Steve said, standing and offering a hand to his younger self. “Let’s get you to the bathroom. I don’t want you bleeding all over my couch.” Cap accepted the hand up with a nod of gratitude. His lips were a thin line, his expression one of deep concentration. They walked slowly to the bathroom together. As they turned the corner, he swayed backward. By habit and reflex, Steve’s arms shot out to steady him. His fingers curled around the other man’s shoulders, holding him still. A current of electricity ran through each other in the places where skin met skin.  
  
      “You okay?” Steve asked himself, watching his eyes carefully.  
  
      “Yeah.” He said, swallowing hard. “We’re good.” They sat on the edge of the bathtub while the water ran.  
  
      “I know you asked for alcohol, but will you settle for soap and water?”  
  
      “I forget sometimes that I’m not on the field, you know?” Steve said, stopping short. When he looked up, Steve could see how very young he was. “Of course you know,” He said, lowering his eyes before continuing “even with all this, the future and everything, I still forget that I don’t have to boil my water before I drink it. I forget that I don’t have to disinfect wounds with gin. Sometimes I feel like my brain is still in the war.”  
  
      It took effort for Steve to respond at all. When he did, it was a silent, uncomfortable nod. He did know. He remembered that feeling. It started decades ago, and it never quite left him.  
  
      “You should get in the tub.” Steve said, “Wash up and I’ll come back in—“  
  
      “What?” Steve heard his own laugh from the other man. “I can’t take a bath in front of myself?”  
  
      Steve thought it over, considering the benefit of keeping an eye on this version of himself. If it was malicious, better to keep an eye on himself.  
  
      “Sure.” Tucking the gun safely on the cabinet, within reach if he should need it. “I’ll keep you company.” He said. Cap smiled, not a bright smile, but a smile nonetheless, and stripped off the layers of soiled clothing. Torn between preserving his own modesty and an overwhelming curiosity, Steve watched the process from the corner of his eye in an attempt to be inconspicuous.  
  
      It was everything he saw in the mirror each day, so familiar that it had nearly become invisible after so many decades without change.  
  
      There was something different about seeing himself from the outside. The perspective was different, calling to mind his artistic sensibilities. He tried to view it as a study, the way he would a subject for a drawing, but he was looking at himself and it was like nothing he had ever seen. Suddenly, he understood what the world had been telling him ever since the serum had permanently altered his being. He was something to look at.  
  
      Steve glanced up at the other pair of identical eyes and caught them in the crosshairs. Cap was standing there watching himself watching himself. It made his head hurt to consider the whole scene. He stepped into the tub and sank into the water, hissing as it hit the open wound.  
  
      “Here.” Steve said, handing him a washcloth. Cap raised his eyebrows. “It’s clean.” He answered the implied question. Cap washed the wound, turning the water pink, and then climbed out, glistening and dripping. Steve looked, against his better judgment, feeling himself harden as he watched the other man look around the room. Beads of water rolled down his abs and into the dark blond hair below them. His muscles were not the only thing that the serum enlarged, Steve considered, as he gave an appraising look. He knew this well, but seeing it from a distance was a different matter. Steve handed a towel to Cap and found the supplies that they would need.  
  
      “You’re going to want to lie down for this.” He said, opening the door and leading the way toward his bedroom. As Cap walked through to his room Steve took a deep breath and clenched his fist. He told himself it was only the strangeness, the novelty, of the situation that was effecting him. By the time he joined Cap, he had found his composure again.  
  
      “I don’t want to get blood on your sheets.” Cap said when Steve’s bed came into view. Steve glanced around with despair at the unmade, crumpled bed sheets. His lips turned up at the corner.  
  
      “Believe me, the bed has seen worse.” He said. “How’s that bullet?” Steve asked. Cap winced as he sat on the edge of the bed and allowed a soft puff of air to escape his lips as he reclined along the bed. Steve sat next to him and examined the wound.  
  
      “How does it look?” Cap asked before clenching his teeth.  
  
      “Like you got shot.” Steve said.  
  
      “Are you going to do something about it, or should I take a nap?” Cap asked. As he finished speaking, he felt the unmistakable sensation of exploratory surgery without anesthesia. “Mary, mother of God. That hurts.” He said, as Steve dug into the cavity to find the bullet.  
  
      “I know.” Steve said. Cap strained to remain still while Steve worked, muscles bulging, chest rising and falling faster and faster. Beads of sweat collected along Cap’s hairline, his eyes shut tight against the pain, mouth forming silent words while Steve worked.  
  
After Steve had finished bandaging Cap, there was nothing left to say. There was nothing to be done except let Cap’s healing factor do it’s work. A wound like this would take weeks to make progress, but for Cap, he needed only twenty minutes before the wound looked months old. Steve understood this in a way nobody else ever could. He tried to focus, tried not to look anywhere but the site of the injury—certainly not at Cap’s face, or his body, or the towel riding low on his hips.  
  
Moments passed and felt like years. Steve let out a breath that he did not realize he had been holding.  
      “All done.” He said, once the bandages were fixed and some time had elapsed. Cap’s hand tight on Steve’s thigh suggested otherwise.  
  
      “No.” Cap opened his eyes, heavy from the rush of endorphins coursing through him, as his body knit itself back together. “I think we are just getting started.” Eyes still locked on the other pair, equally blue and just as intense, Cap slid one hand down himself to the clumsy knot of the towel and flicked it open, letting it fall to the sides.  
  
      Now that permission was granted—permission he had not realized he was waiting for until it was given—Steve allowed his eyes to roam over the body stretched out across his bed. It was his, with all the same familiar ridges and valleys that he knew from a lifetime lived in and unchanged. This body was different however, neater, unblemished. It brought out something feral in Steve, a possessive quality. He wanted to shelter it, and hide this version of himself away from the world and everything that it had done to him. The sound was ripped from his throat without conscious thought: a needy sound that might have been a growl or a groan.  
  
      “That’s what I figured.” Cap said, reaching up and twisting his hands into the fabric of Steve’s shirt, pulling him into a tooth clattering, ferocious kiss. Steve wasted no time in pushing the equipment from the bed in a careless gesture before swinging a leg over to straddle Cap, their bodies matched in height and width. He ran his hands across the expanse of Cap’s shoulders and up his neck as their mouths met again and again.  
  
      Cap opened his mouth when Steve ran his tongue along his lower lip and the kiss became more intimate. Steve ground down on Cap’s naked erection, eliciting a sound that was as pained as it was expressive of pleasure while Cap threw his head back, exposing his throat. Instead of going in for the kill, Steve leaned back on his haunches to examine the wound in Cap’s torso. Already, it was only a graze, easy to avoid. He ran his hands along Cap’s abdomen, his chest, eventually settling over his nipples and gave a gentle squeeze to each. Cap’s eyes went wide.  
  
      “Oh yes.” Cap said covering his eyes with an arm, a smile running across his face. “That’s nice.” Steve voiced his agreement by replacing one of his hands with his mouth and doubling his enthusiasm while he rocked gently above Cap. Steve brought his lips back up to meet Cap’s again, feeling the swell of his lower lip with his tongue and the enthusiastic way that Cap kissed back, surging forward to meet him. He knew the movements that the other man would make before they happened. Being one and the same, the thoughts seemed to sprout in their heads at the same time. They worked on instinct. Cap’s hands pushed at the waistband of Steve’s sweatpants and he shucked out of them without thought, except to wonder why it had taken him so long to get rid of the material.  
  
      Steve arched his back and let out a breathy moan when Cap’s hand closed around him, hot and strong and so familiar in such an unprecedented way.  
  
      “This is too fuckin’ weird.” Steve panted into Cap’s shoulder when his words had returned to him.  
  
      “You’re telling me.” Cap said, before the absurdity of the statement caught up with them. He shook his head, laughing, and put his free hand on the back of Steve’s head to bring him back down for another kiss. His other hand picked up speed. He dragged his thumb across the slit of Steve’s cockhead between strokes, collecting the precome that gathered there and smearing it with the downward movement of his hand.  
  
      Cap curled forward and took Steve into his mouth. Steve’s hands flew to the back of his head. The sounds that he made were knocked out of him as if he had been punched in the gut.  
  
     “Fu—auh!” Steve moaned, words failing him. Cap doubled his efforts and focused to keep from smiling. His fist and mouth moved in tandem around Steve. Cap moved with a kind of determination that Steve recognized in himself. Every stroke, every lick, was perfectly calculated and measured to drive Steve to the breaking point. “I can’t—“ He said, lost in the pleasure as his cock collided with the back of that throat over and over. “I’m gonna lose it. I’m gonna fucking lose it.” Steve said, trying so hard to hold back. Cap drew back, Steve’s cock falling from his lips with an obscene, slick, wet sound.  
  
      “Then lose it. You know I can take it.” Cap said. It was all Steve needed to clutch his hair and fuck into his mouth as if his life depended upon it. Abandoning all sense of propriety, Steve moved his hips in earnest, setting a brutal, wild pace.  
  
      Steve watched as his dick slid in and out of his own face beneath him. Rationally, he knew that it should be too strange, too unsettling, to bring him any satisfaction, but as Steve saw the identical copy of his own cheeks hollowed around him, and heard his own voice moan sending vibrations up his spine, another wave of arousal washed over him.  
  
      From this perspective, Steve could see what Bucky had seen on the rare moments they had alone together. Steve had often wondered what he looked like when they did this. He wondered what had possessed Bucky to stroke his cheek when they were done—sated and cleaned up and sleepy—and to whisper to Steve that he was beautiful. Steve understood now. This was how he had looked when he was on his knees for Bucky, and it was, indeed, beautiful.  
  
      He thrust into Cap’s mouth again and then stilled while his orgasm rocked through him. He held on tight as he came and finished with a choked, cut-off cry. Cap was still swallowing as his counterpart pulled out. Steve released his hair and stroked his cheek with the back of his hand. Cap closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, but only for a moment.  
  
      When his eyes opened again, it was as if a fire had been lit in them. Steve became conscious of the erection below him now, desperate for attention. One eyebrow raised slightly, a silent question, which was answered immediately as he was thrown onto his back on the mattress. He landed softly, his legs still forming parenthesis around Cap, who loomed above him with a dangerous smirk.  
  
      “So that’s how it’s gonna be?” Steve asked, breathless.  
  
      “That’s how it looks. Got something to say about it?” Cap said. Through his bravado, Steve saw the concern in his eyes. It spoke volumes to Steve that there was once a time when he would have thought this pathetic shell of a self was worth saving, worth treating with kindness. Who were they kidding? Only one of them was worth that kind of consideration.  
  
      “Who am I to argue with Captain America?” Steve asked. He pulled the other version of himself—the better version of himself—he thought, into a fierce kiss, tracing two fingers back and opening himself up on them. He winced slightly at the intrusion.  
  
      “Uh.” Steve grunted at the insertion of the digits. It was rough and dry, but he knew he could take it. He moved fast. One of the benefits of being an ex-super-soldier was the knowledge that he could take just about anything. Cap stopped the kiss and met his eyes again, real concern leaking through to the surface.  
  
      “Wait.” He said, leaning back. Steve continued to push into himself roughly. The stretch was uncomfortable, but it was nothing he would not recover from. After all, he personally dug a bullet out of his doppelgänger not an hour earlier. He could certainly take another finger. “No. Stop.” Cap said, his voice commanding. He put a hand around Steve’s wrist and brought him back. “Not like this.” He said. “He wouldn’t want it to be like this.”  
  
      The moment came crashing down around Steve’s ears. From the tone of his voice, Steve knew exactly who Cap meant. Worse, he knew that Cap was right. While he was alive, Bucky spent a considerable amount of time and energy protecting Steve. Wherever he was now, they both knew that he would want this to be as slow and gentle as if Bucky’s hands were the ones caressing his lover’s skin. Steve let out a long, hot sigh against Cap’s bicep, resting his head there. Eventually, he found his voice.  
  
      “There’s lube in the drawer” He said, with a nod toward the bedside table. He withdrew his fingers. Before he realized the absence above him, Cap returned, lube in hand, and poured a gracious amount onto his own fingers.  
  
      “We’re going to take this slow.” He said, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. I bet nobody has tried to do that for you in a while.” Cap said. He bypassed Steve’s erection, already back in full Technicolor, and pressed behind Steve’s balls. He traced a finger lightly along the crevasse all the way to the cleft and back down again.  
  
      “You did a pretty good job with that already.” Steve said. “Making me feel good, I mean. I haven’t come like that in I don’t know how long.”  
  
      “Good.” Steve said, bringing his index finger down to Steve’s hole, and tracing around it gently. He did not breach the muscle, but allowed Steve to get used to the feeling of him there. “I want to. Christ almighty, I just want you to be so happy. Want you to feel so good.” Cap said, finally pushing one finger inside of Steve.  
  
      It was different, entirely different, to the way Steve felt before when it was his own hand. Instead of being rushed, a means to an end, this was an experience in and of itself. His own eyes locked with the eyes peering down at him from above. He nodded slowly and gave himself over to the feeling. After what felt like a blissful eternity, Cap added a second finger. Steve pushed himself back down on it and allowed his jaw to drop open. Cap continued to move his fingers in and out with purposeful thrusts and bent forward to lick a long stripe from the hollow of Steve’s neck to his lips.  
  
      “Why aren’t you fucking me yet?” Steve asked. In answer, Cap added another finger and grazed Steve’s prostate. “Fucking—oh.” The words burst forth along with a string of moans. “Oh fuck. That’s—yeah. Yeah, that’s good..” Steve said, pushing his ass into Cap’s hand.  
  
      What Cap said about Steve had been true. Between extended bouts of loneliness, broken up by the occasional quick, anonymous fuck, nobody had taken much time or care with him in bed in a long damn time. The first contact they had unlocked a certain kind of hunger that Steve suppressed in himself for so long, which was finally coming to fruition in the most extraordinary way. By the time Cap’s cock pushed into Steve, he was undone.  Cap’s breath ghosted hot against Steve’s ear when he bottomed out, coming to a halt. He trembled with the effort of not moving, now that he was encased in such tight heat.  
      “You good?” Cap asked. Steve moved his hands along Cap’s sides and down to his ass, kneeding the flesh there and grabbing ahold.  
  
      “Gonna be a lot better when you fuck me through the bed.” He said, as he rocked his ass to get the point across. At this, Cap took the hint and began to move, slowly at first, building up momentum. He grabbed one of Steve’s legs and placed it over his shoulder. From this new angle, he struck true with each thrust. He turned his head for only the briefest moment and kissed Steve’s thigh before returning his attention to the set of eyes below him which matched his own so perfectly. They fell into a relentless rhythm. Cap’s face, so smooth and calm throughout the most trying affairs, became drawn and creased. His brow furrowed and his mouth open.  
  
      “Jesus.” He swore head falling back as his hips surged forward with a more hectic frequency. “Feels amazing.” He said, panting.  
  
      “Stop complimenting yourself.” Steve said with a gentle huff of a laugh. He leaned up and took Cap’s earlobe into his mouth, between his teeth, and worried the skin with his tongue, earning a string of whines and moans.  
  
      “Damn, damn, damn.” Cap swore, feeling himself draw up tight like the string of a bow. There would be no coming back from this except to come. He could feel himself on the edge. Steve released his ear. Their eyes locked on each other and the game was all over.  
  
      “Fucking…” But before Steve could get the words out, his orgasm arrived, unstoppable, though he would hardly have wanted to prevent it.. He pulled Cap closer and threw himself into a kiss while he felt Cap tense all over him, unable to move or kiss him back or do anything but clutch at every square inch of skin that his hands could reach with a force that would leave anybody else with bruises for days.  
  
      Slowly, they drew back, sticky and sweaty. Two sets of the same eyes lingered on each other, two mouths curled into disbelieving smiles that mirrored each other, their chests rose and fell in unison. Cap rolled off of Steve and lay shoulder to shoulder with him while they caught their breath. Identical hearts beat in their chests, sending blood rushing through their ears.  
  
      “You good?” Cap asked once again, once he had come back to earth. Steve fixed him with a sobering stare. The question was loaded, just like Steve. He was not asking about the sex.  
  
      “I think you know I’m not.” Steve said.  
  
      “Pft.” Cap exhaled and looked back up at the ceiling. “Of course you’re not. Look at you, you’re a mess.” He glanced at Steve, his disheveled hair, his broken smile, and the something in his eyes that spoke of too many things that could not be unseen and unsaid. Steve sat up and opened the bedside drawer. He popped the lid off of a bottle of pills and swallowed two without a backward glance at Cap. They stuck in his throat and slid down slowly, leaving a bitter taste behind.  
  
      “That’s the last of those.” Cap said, reaching out a hand and taking the bottle. Steve did not put up a fight, but surrendered. He saw something settle in Cap’s eyes, like a shutter drawn tight. There would be no quarter, no chance to appeal this decision. “I don’t care if you don’t want to report for duty. That’s your decision.” Cap went on, his free hand stroking the side of Steve’s face gently. “But you’re going into S.H.I.E.L.D. with me. We’re getting you straightened out.”  
  
      “And why do you think I’m going to do something stupid like that?” Steve asked.  
  
      “Because that’s what we do.” Cap said. “We take all the stupid with us.” He continued to stroke Steve’s face, his neck. He leaned in for a kiss and closed his eyes. Just for that moment, it was not his own lips that he was kissing, but the lips of a lover lost long ago. When they parted, he said, “You’ve been taking on more than your fair share of the stupid these days. Let me carry some.” They brought their lips together once more.  
  
      “It’s what he would want.” Steve said, when they drew back a second time. The decision had been made in the course of that kiss. He would not take up the shield again, or the mantel of Captain America. There was another who could do that now. All that he could do was surrender. All that he could do was agree to keep fighting.  
  
      “It’s what he would want.” Cap said.


End file.
